


Here in the Morning

by JaybirdSpectacular



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Drabble, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sylvain Jose Gautier Being An Idiot, a little fluff, self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29641680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaybirdSpectacular/pseuds/JaybirdSpectacular
Summary: Sylvain comes to Felix again, battered and drunk, after yet another night out.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Here in the Morning

If it isn't obvious enough how little Sylvain cares for himself at the point, how little he cares for Felix and his complaints against Sylvain’s obnoxious behavior, the incessant tapping of his toes on the floor and his finger against the cool marble counter top surely give him away. The rhythm strikes a new emotion with each beat: boredom, indifference, disregard for himself, throwing himself unrestrained at whatever wild fascination catches his voracious fancy.

When he had first appeared on Felix's doorstep two hours prior, drunk off his ass, Felix, no questions asked, marched him upstairs to clean him off. Felix had shoved him to the mirror, forced him to look at what Felix was forced to see. Sylvain had not flinched, had not groaned, had not even flashed his typical white-toothed sheepish grin, chased by an easy, empty apology. He had simply looked and looked and looked and finally turned to Felix. "Think this cut will scar?"

Now, Sylvain shows nothing of his hand, has nothing written on his face beyond stark, practiced apathy. He holds his cards close, refuses to deal them out or share even a glimpse of his hand. Felix must bet blindly on how to play this game tonight.

And his bets are on nothing good. The blood is gone, but his eye is swollen and darkening by the second, his lip bears a nasty gash, and his pricy suit is irreparably torn and stained. Did someone's boyfriend finally try to kill him? Did he go out to start a losing fight himself? Felix doesn’t _care_ ; the end is always the same.

"I've tried being patient, but I'm sick of this. I'm sick of you showing up here, stumbling in half-drunk and almost dead. Whoever you pissed off this time, I have half a mind to think that you deserved it."

Sylvain gives him a cocky grin. The asshole has a chipped tooth— what the fuck is Felix supposed to do about that? "Maybe I did, and maybe so did the other guy. And trust me, Fe, I got the sweet part of the deal. You'd have been proud to see how I laid him out. Some of my finest work yet. In fact—"

"Shut-up. Stop talking. Hearing your voice is making me nauseous."

"Yeah, well, that makes two of us," Sylvain says, taking a sip of water. The ice clinks against the glass, warring against the silence that falls over them like smoke on the horizon. Felix wants to rip the words back, swallow them down, shove them into the blender and grind them up until Sylvain can't use them against himself anymore.

Felix takes a deep breath. He's letting himself be taken by Sylvain's half-truths, half-lies, full-form self-deprecation, being fooled as much by the deflection as any random stranger on the street that will almost inevitably find themselves tangled in and disappointed by Sylvain’s false persona. "You're reckless. You're reckless and idiotic, and I'm sick and tired of worrying about you." He knows the words fall wrongly, have been said wrongly, and he is fully to blame, unable to control the vitriol that seems to seep from his pores.

Sylvain freezes, his brow taut and his lips strung tight. "I didn’t ask you to. I don't need you to." He stands, more of a hobble, bracing himself palms down on the counter. The stool clatters to the floor.

"Sylvain, wait," Felix calls as Sylvain begins his stumbling lumbering to the door. He doesn't make it, losing his balance and slumping to the wall. Felix is at his side in a flash, quicker than the fake smile Sylvain gives him, more sneer than cheer. Though it is awkward with their height difference, he slips under Sylvain’s shoulder, hoisting him up.  
  
"Let me go. I'm fine," says Sylvain even as he falls pliant under Felix’s hold.

Felix snorts incredulously. Sylvain is about as fine as a house fire, burning himself inside out, catching on anything he can to burn down with him.

Good thing Felix carved himself a stone mask years ago that protects him from the flames. He may be the only one able, or brave, or stupid enough to fight Sylvain’s raging self-destruction. Felix takes him to the couch, laying his ill and ill-fated friend on his side in case the alcohol poisoning decides to be the next one to throw a punch.

"Tell me what happened in the morning," Felix says, standing.

Sylvain’s hand grabs his. "If I don't get it out now while I'm still stupid drunk, I may never say it. One of the guys from the office was talking shit about you at the bar. So, I slugged him." He closes his eyes. “I slugged him good, Fe.”

Felix's brain cannot wrap around Sylvain’s words like their joined hands, so he says, "It's not the alcohol making you stupid."

Sylvain smiles genuinely at that, and his hand slowly falls limp to the side. Felix brushes a few stray strands of red hair from Sylvain’s eyes before covering him with a blanket, turning out the lights, and heading to bed.

Sylvain will still be here in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> My first try at Sylvix! I want to write more, but writing Felix absolutely terrifies me. I just can't get his voice right ; _ ; 
> 
> Let me know what you thought! I respond to every comment♥


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